Broken Toys
by Sorrow Reminisce
Summary: He didn't have a unit. Not anymore. Nor did he have a martyr-complex. Not like some people... Scenes from Designate This and Bag Em. Alec's POV.


_Author Note: This one-shot is the result of me sitting up late each night running through a S2 marathon when I should be sleeping. A scene from Designate This and Bag 'Em, written from Alec's POV. I would have liked to do each ep, as t__he original purpose was to portray the evolution of Alec's character._ But that likely won't happen.

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**Designate This: 'A Means to An End'**

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He reached into his pocket and thumbed the roll of banknotes. Watched her out of the corner of his eyes as she sulked on the floor, arms wrapped tight around her knees.

She refused to look at him, not directly. But every now and then he felt her eyes on him, burning holes into his skin, and he wondered how she could hate him so much. Not like it was his choice to been assigned to her.

Stretching languidly and yawning with exaggeration, he rolled over on the thin Manticore-issue mattress and smirked when he caught her eye.

"Enjoying the view, 452?" Quirking an eyebrow, he shuffled towards the wall and patted the narrow section of mattress before him. "Plenty of room if you wanna get comfy."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and looked away, too despondent for sarcasm.

_Whatever_. He echoed inside his mind. Smug grin unshakeable.

The hour ticked by, and then with a few minutes to spare until the guard returned, she asked him a question.

"So what's with the money?"

He paused in the middle of running his fingers through the stack of bills he had compulsively pulled from his pocket. "And why do you care?"

She jutted out her chin and frowned. "I don't. Just curious 'bout why a true blue Manticore soldier is running his own game."

He glanced over, smile tugging at his lips. "Always good to have a contingency plan, 452."

"Oh right." She snorted. "You gonna break outta here?"

The smile, when it escaped, was knowing. "Are you?"

That shut her mouth pretty quick.

He stuffed the money back into his pocket, yawned and rolled over. Feigned sleep.

Behind his closed eyes, he could still see her scowling face imprinted on his mind. _Max _the broken toy, with her moody pout, desperate eyes, and more trouble up her sleeve than Manticore itself could contain. Of course she had an escape plan. Hell, running away was what she and her rugrat unit did best. Question was; what to do with her when the time came? Let her go, or hand her ass over to Renfro?

Thumbing the money in his pocket once again, he knew the answer.

He may have been made in Manticore, but he wasn't gonna let this place control him forever.

What he had wasn't enough. But it was a start.

A means to an end.

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**Bag Em: 'Sweet Nothing'**

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"You're really _leaving_?"

"Afraid so." He couldn't understand the disbelief in her voice. What did she expect him to do? Stick around and play 'daddy' to the rug-rats? Fat chance.

"Figures you'd forget the one good thing Manticore ever taught us: never abandon your unit." Her tone was reproachful, and gave him a second's pause - if for no other reason than to think up a retort.

He glanced over at the formation of child-soldiers. _His_ unit? His unit had been spread to the wind already. Probably gunned down in the initial escape, or the aftermath. These were a bunch of kids who looked to him like he should be some kind of leader. Like he should be able to tell them what the hell to do with their lives now that everything they'd ever known had been burnt to the ground.

Like he should care.

He was a lone wolf - assassin trained. Sure, he'd climbed the Manticore ranks, but he was a solo mission kinda guy. And he sure as hell didn't need pack mentality to hold him back. 'Specially not these newbies. Waay more mess than he needed to get tangled up in.

He didn't have a unit. Not anymore. Nor did he have a martyr-complex. Not like _some_ people.

"Well, thanks to you, there is no more Manticore. You made this mess, not me." _Have fun cleaning it up_. He added inside his head as he chuckled aloud at the thought.

And then he left them standing there, a bunch of toy soldiers looking for a leader and finding only 452 in his place. _Yeah. Good luck with that._

xxxxx

_No regrets._ Alec thought with a smile, as he tore down the open road with the top down on his stolen Plymouth. With nothing but miles and miles of freedom in front of him, what was there to regret? Well, a hot blonde in the lap would be a bonus, but hey, plenty of time for that.

He'd shaken _Max _and her merry band of thieves, but try as he might to convince himself otherwise, he couldn't quite shake the guilty voice that was busy whispering sweet nothings in his head. All he could hope for was to drown it out with music and positive affirmations.

_Abandoner_._ Betrayer. Turncoat. Asshole. Loser. Jerk... _Positive affirmations? Yeah right. It was like a Manticore brainwashing tactic; but using Max's voice and flashing pictures of his own self in front of his eyes.

Wasn't his problem Miss Holier Than Thou had come along and infected them all with her 'the world is your oyster' speech. Not his issue if she'd given them all hope. Lost causes. Each and every one of them.

So maybe a part of him had found himself listening in, and wanting it too. The camaraderie. The fortitude. The sweet nothings. But it was false hope. Misguided. And he was losing his focus by buying into it.

_No regrets._ He reaffirmed, as he cranked the stereo and floored the pedal. Freedom was something he'd been prepping for since his last stint in Psy-Ops. No way was he gonna let anyone get in his way now.

And then on the horizon came a beaten up old truck. Ripping along like it was on a mission. Except...

"They're heading the wrong way." He muttered to himself, as the truck drew closer. And then as it passed he yelled, "Hey, you're heading the wrong way!"

He saw the earnest faces of the rug rats as they flicked by. All full of excitement and heroics. No doubt 452 had got herself caught trying to help them, and they were now gonna get their heroic asses killed by trying to stage a rescue.

Like he should care? Wasn't his problem.

But maybe those grunts and their unwavering determination to do the right thing had got to him - just a little. And then her voice was in his head; an echo of her parting words, '_Figures you'd forget the one good thing Manticore ever taught us..' _And he was riled that she would act as if she knew one damn thing about the kind of person he was. The kind of soldier he'd been.

Maybe that was something he cared about, just a little.

So now a hot date with a busty blonde would have to wait he realized, as he swung his car around.

He shook his head. "Typical."

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**END**


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